“The crowds that went ahead of him and that followed were shouting, “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest heaven!”

— Matthew 21:9

Can you imagine this scene?

I picture Jesus riding into the city on a donkey—yes, a donkey, and perhaps even a colt alongside it. Not a war horse, not a symbol of power, but something humble, almost ordinary. And yet nothing about this moment is ordinary.

I imagine Jesus watching the crowds. Really seeing them. Perhaps not even taking in their shouts at first—“Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!”—but noticing faces. A young boy piling up palm branches in excitement. A toddler hiding her face in the folds of her mother’s cloak. Pilgrims pressing in, dusty from the road, caught up in hope and anticipation.

Did Jesus allow himself to enjoy this moment? Did he smile at their joy, laugh with the disciples, take in the strange beauty of a parade made not of power but of people?

The road would still have been dusty, even with palms laid down to soften it. Thousands of feet, sandals kicking up the earth. And there he is, Jesus, somehow both part of the crowd and set apart from it. Seen by many as a spectacle. Hoped for by some as Messiah. Yet still just another pilgrim entering the city.

And I wonder what he saw when he looked at them. They cry out, “Hosanna,” God, save us but did they recognize the one who stood before them as the answer to that prayer? Did they see him? Did they believe it?

Or was Jesus already holding the weight of what was to come? Already hearing, beneath the shouts of praise, the echo of another cry rising later in the week: “Crucify him.”

And what about the disciples? Did he see their joy as they entered the city? Did he watch them wave to familiar faces, caught up in the celebration? Did he already know how quickly that joy would unravel—how they would scatter, how he would be left alone?

What did Jesus see as he rode into Jerusalem?

Beloved siblings, it is about to begin again. This week, we enter once more into the week of Jesus’ passion. We know how the story unfolds. We know where the road leads. And still, each year, we are invited to see it again, to notice what we have not noticed before, to feel what we have not yet felt. So pay attention. Listen closely to the shifting voices of the crowd. Watch the faces along the road. Stay with Jesus, not only in the parade, but all the way to the cross.

And may God meet us there, surprising us with unexpected grace, even as the story turns toward suffering, and beyond it, toward life.